Self-Love After a Layoff: When the Leader Gets Let Go

There’s a moment after the layoff call ends. The moment after the “we’re restructuring” speech and after the HR rep logs off when the silence gets loud. You sit there blinking, not sure if you want to scream, cry, or laugh at the absurdity of it all. And while the world expects leaders to take the high road, send a thoughtful farewell message, and remind everyone to "stay connected," this post isn’t about that version of events. This is about what comes before the polished goodbye. I chose the song “Self-Love” by Jason Lyric (featuring Neveah) because it speaks to something most leadership content skips over which is the radical act of prioritizing your own wellbeing when your world just got flipped. This post is about sitting in the fall. It’s about letting yourself feel what you feel and giving yourself permission to not be okay. And it starts with giving yourself the space to disconnect.

Tip #1: Disconnect Like Your Sanity Depends on It

🎵 “I had to fall in love with me before I loved you.” 

Let’s start here: you don’t have to stay emotionally available to a company that just let you go.

The lyric hits because it reframes the whole moment. You can’t show up for anyone else until you show up for you. And right after a layoff, you don’t owe anybody anything. Not HR. Not your former boss. Not your team members who are “just checking in” to ease their own discomfort. Ignore the calls. Mute the messages. Archive the LinkedIn DMs from people who were silent before this moment. You are not obligated to manage their feelings while drowning in your own.

Yes, you’ve been trained to protect relationships. But what about protecting your recovery?

🎤 Mic Drop: You can grieve in peace. Grace is optional. Boundaries are not.

Tip #2: Embrace the Rage Fantasy (Then Redirect It)

🎵 “You can’t break me—I’m built different.” 

Let’s normalize a little emotional whiplash.

One minute you’re stunned. The next, you’re fantasizing about winning a national leadership award while your former VP sits in the audience, clutching their regrets like a cheap tote bag. That daydream where they finally realize what they lost. It’s common. It’s human. And honestly... it’s part of the process.

We don’t talk enough about anger as grief, especially in leadership. We’re taught to stay graceful, be resilient, and craft a classy farewell post. But beneath all that polish? Rage. Raw. Real. Justified.

The answer isn’t to suppress it. It’s to give it a job.

After a layoff, there’s often a quiet voice whispering, “Maybe I wasn’t that good.” Ignore it. Better yet, drown it out with receipts.

Use that fire to fuel something concrete. Update your resume with unapologetic wins. Rewrite your bio like you’re introducing your favorite speaker. Build the brand you didn’t have time for when you were buried in org charts and performance reviews.

This repair. This is reclamation.

And when opportunity knocks again, don’t shrink. Walk in knowing what you’re worth. Then like my mom used to tell me, add sales tax.

🎤 Mic Drop: You’re not petty. You’re rebuilding with receipts.

Tip #3: Come Back Loud and On Your Own Terms

🎵 “I’m the proof and the prophecy.” I found peace when I stopped explaining.” — Jason Lyric, “Self-Love”

When you’re ready to re-emerge, do it boldly, but do it your way.

There’s no rule that says you have to make a polished LinkedIn post explaining your layoff. No requirement to tie it up with a bow and call it “a blessing in disguise.” You don’t owe the internet closure.

This is your story to tell or not tell. And how you re-enter doesn’t have to match anyone’s expectations but your own.

But when you are ready to show up again, let it be undeniable. This is about possession. Of your voice, your value, and your right to reintroduce yourself with receipts.

🎤 Mic Drop: You control the volume and the version. Make both count.

Final Thoughts

I didn’t write this from research. I wrote it from experience. I’ve been on the other side of that calendar invite. I’ve stared at the screen, heart racing, wondering how I went from leading the team to being locked out of my email. And even now, I know I could be there again. It’s never easy, no matter how seasoned or strategic or successful you are. But what I’ve learned is that you don’t stop being a leader just because you’ve lost the title. You get to be human. I was. I am. And as Neveah sings in “Self-Love,” “I poured into everyone else ‘til I was empty… now I pour into me.”

 

TL;DR

• Ignore the calls. Disconnect to protect your peace.
• Feel the rage. Let the fantasy fuel you.
• Re-enter when you’re ready. Loud and on your own terms.